All is Well
by Ennixeve
Summary: The crew of Moya sleep... all but one...
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: They're not mine, this is not for profit, please don't sue me, I just love the show.

Rating: PG

Spoilers: None as yet

Setting: Post Fractures. 

Authors Notes: Thanks to Minh for this one, for the situation that resulted in the fic, for beta-ing as always, and for more than she knows. Henry Scott Holland for the original "All is Well," David Fisher for composing simply "wow" music to write to, Claudia Black for portraying such a stunning character and for being an amazing actor, and of course, Aeryn, for talking to me, once in a while :) I wrote this while listening to the piece with which this fic shares its title. The original of which can be found on the following page. This is as yet an unfinished piece, although I currently have no idea where it's going… at this point I could do a "Minh" and say that feedback will make the next bit appear quicker, but that, I'm afraid, simply isn't true… because I only write when Aeryn is talking to me, so we are all waiting for the next section ;) However, feedback is absolutely loved :) As I'm sure you all know, so go on, make my day :) Anyway, on to the fic…

All is Well

"No, no, no, no, no…" A single word, a single syllable, repeated over and over again.  Inside her mind, the voice - her voice - is loud, screaming, shouting, but her lips utter no sound.  Inside her mind there is struggle and torment; she is running, frightened like she's never been frightened before, but her body doesn't move a muscle.

The rest of the crew are oblivious to her ordeal.  John Crichton - not the one she pledged her life to, the other one - slept on in his quarters.  He slept quietly, dreaming dreams not to be remembered.  Flashes from his past, present, and perhaps future flashed before his closed eyes - random and incoherent images that the dawn of the day would erase from his memory.  Having served their purpose, they would return to his subconscious mind, leaving him with only a vague sensation of their content.

Chiana, the little, slight slip of a girl, lay curled up in a tiny grey bundle, absolutely still, the only sign the lithe form was even living, the gentle rise and fall of her breath.  Motionless, and still, her mind was utterly empty, a dark grey slate upon which the next day's memories and experiences would be drawn.  But for now, there was nothing except a peaceful clarity, unclouded by life.

D'Argo, the Luxan warrior - and fugitive - slept in the way he always had: flat on his back, with a simple cover that reminded him of his home, reminded him of something Lo'laan had been working on, something she never got to finish, covering his huge torso.  He seldom dreamed, and tonight, as most nights, sleep found him as quiet as he'd ever be during the day.

Next door to him lay Jool, a sleeping princess, stretched out in a star shape, arms wide above her head and legs at an angle made possible only by her immensely flexible body.  She dreamt of her home, of making magnificent discoveries of lost cities and ancient civilisations.  Her dreams were colourful: oranges, reds, yellows, golds, silvers… a vibrant symphony of action, colour, music, people… 

In complete contrast, Pilot and Moya were calm, serene, peaceful.  With Talyn's mechanical Peacekeeper technology keeping an ever-watchful "eye" on the surrounding inky blackness of space, Moya and Pilot were, for once, allowed to completely shut off from the outside universe.  Pilot and Moya, always Pilot and Moya, together.  Never apart.  They shared everything.  Every feeling, every thought, every emotion…  It had been that way for cycles, and neither of them would have it any other way.  Very, very rarely were they permitted, or indeed felt safe enough, to cut off their external sensors and turn inwards.  Usually at least part of Pilot's multitasking ability was turned to monitor and interpret information coming from Moya's ever watchful sensors.  But recently in every sleep cycle since Talyn had returned, Pilot and Moya had flown together through the great chasms of their collective souls.  Together, they dived deep within their joined psyches.  Exploring, touching, feeling, experiencing, sharing…  Theirs was a relationship like none other between any of the beings they protected.  It was deeper, more intense, more sharing, more knowing, more open and honest, more sensual, than any other.

And so, their dreams were like none other also.  They explored previously unseen places and reached out to each other like never before.  They relived memories of the darkest, most painful times of their existence, both before the joining and after.  They remembered the great pain and fear of those days, and comforted, reassured, and cried with each other, before leaving those pockets of pain for the last time, to relish in the calm, peaceful places.  Here everything was blue, green and grey, and here, for the first time in so many cycles, they found peace, quiet and utter stillness. 

And so it was that Moya, Pilot, and their crew slept away the sleep cycle.  The entire ship was utterly silent and still, and it was to this quiet, serene stillness that Aeryn broke out of sleep.  She was sweating, and shaking, and once again stunned to find that the voice in her head was just that – in her head.  No word had passed her lips to disturb the silence.


	2. Original All is Well

All Is Well

Death is nothing at all... I have only slipped away into the next room. I am I and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by my old familiar name, speak to me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference in your tone; wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without effort, without the ghost of a shadow on it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same that it ever was; there is absolutely unbroken continuity. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am waiting for you for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner. All is well...

Henry Scott Holland


End file.
